


Wedding Consultant Extraordinaire

by Maple



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Cake, Gen, Humor, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-24
Updated: 2011-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maple/pseuds/Maple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan pops by to see how Richie's new business is going, and as usual, it is a Richie Ryan business debacle! Now with more cake and icing!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Consultant Extraordinaire

"Hey, Richie. How's business?" Duncan entered the little office space area that Richie had been renting for a few months. His name was on the door, looking very official and prestigious, announcing that he was Richard Reynolds, Wedding Consultant.

"Terrible," Richie told him as he got out of his chair. "Absolutely, horribly, terrible!" He flapped his arms. "I thought this job would be something I could do. I like people. I love weddings. Everyone is happy, everyone is looking to the future, spending gobs of money. But it isn't what it's cracked up to be, let me tell you!"

"Really?" Duncan raised an eyebrow. He cast a quick glance over Richie's office area. Lights were blinking on the phone, indicating unreturned calls, the computer screen showed about a dozen different programs open, sticky notes were tacked up everywhere with scribbled commands and lists. A dozen phone books were piled on the floor, the top book open and defaced with dark marker notations and cross-outs. A display of bridal magazines was unkempt on a tiny table off to the side and the courtesy coffee pot had sludge in the bottom where he thought he detected a wisp of smoke. As Richie started his tale of woe, Duncan hit the off button and removed the pot. The bottom was charred, but still looked like a good scrubbing would fix it right up.

"Yes, really," said Richie. "I've only had two clients so far, and both of them are nightmares. One changes their mind every other day and has me calling and recalling the florist, the baker, the limo company, and everyone else and their third cousin! Yesterday they wanted red and white roses. Today they called and said they wanted pink roses only. But not just pink, no. A special shade of pink. Coral pink. Because they met while out snorkeling in some coral reefs. Yeesh." He put both hands through his hair.

"And the other couple?"

Richie's eyes started bugging out of his head. "That's the real nightmare," he gushed. "Three days until the ceremony and I'm beginning to think they're cursed! Last week the hall called to tell me they had water damage and couldn't handle the reception. It took me three days to beg, borrow, and steal another location. Yesterday the florist called to tell me there was a delivery problem with the baby's breath and they aren't sure it'll get here in time, so we were going to substitute with ivy, except the bride is allergic to it. And today the baker called to tell me they delivered the wrong flour and there's no way to make the cake right!" Richie's voice had grown louder until he was near shouting.

"Calm down, calm down." Duncan made a palms-down motion with his hands. "These things happen. That's why they hired you."

"How'm I supposed to fix all those things?" Richie's coloring had become red and splotchy, he looked like he might experience the first Immortal aneurysm. "With three days? At least the other couple is changing rose colors months in advance!"

Duncan shook his head. It sounded pretty tough. A sword fight to the death was one thing, but where baby's breath and cake fondant were concerned, it was another universe altogether.

"Please, Mac, you've got to help me." Richie turned pleading eyes on him and clasped his hands together. "Both these things need to be taken care of right away and I can't be in two places at once. Please. Please!"

If Richie hadn't looked so desperate, he'd have refused. But Duncan didn't have the heart to say no. "Okay," he agreed, "what do you need me to do?"

Richie scribbled an address down on another sticky note. "This is the baker. Gregory Basque. Whatever you have to do, fix the flour problem. I'll take care of the other flower problem."

"Right. Flour." Duncan took a moment to make sure he could read Richie's handwriting. "I'm off. Good luck."

"Thanks," Richie said, looking wild-eyed like a trapped animal. "I'm gonna need it."

The baker was on the other side of town, so Duncan drove there. It was one business among several other businesses. Tonya's Sushi was to the left and Albertine's Hot Tamales was to the right. The sign on the door announced the bakery was open and Duncan pushed his way in.

The scent of sweet pasty assailed him as he entered. The front area was empty, though a bell with a sign asking customers to ring for assistance was present. Duncan banged on the bell twice and waited, then banged it again and waited again. When no one came after five minutes, Duncan took matters into his own hands.

He maneuvered into the back area.

"Hello? Anyone here? I need some help!"

"Over here," called a young man who was standing near a giant mixing device. He looked unhappy. "Why didn't you ring the bell?"

"I did. Several times." Duncan indicated the mixer, hoping to move off a sore subject. "What's wrong?"

"Broken part."

"Are you Gregory Basque?"

"That'd be me. Cake maker and baker, rub a dub dub."

"I'm here on behalf of Richard Reynolds. The wedding consultant. He said you had the wrong flour delivered."

"Oh, that. No kidding! Come over here and look!" Gregory led him over to an area of extra large bags stamped with the contents. "I ordered red wheat flour. Red. Wheat. They sent me rye. Rye!"

Duncan shook his head. "I thought you used cake flour for cakes. Why red wheat?"

Gregory rolled his eyes. "Special request by the bride and groom. It's supposed to be a mixture. They wanted something heartier, nuttier. Healthier." He made a face. "Personally I can't imagine a red wheat cake, but I can't make it if they sent me rye. I mean, rye. A rye cake?"

Duncan grimaced at the thought of it. He considered the problem. "There's no where to get some red wheat flour? Another bakery?"

Gregory shook his head. "No. It was a special blend that's designed for cakes. Regular red wheat would be disastrous."

"What kind of cake is it supposed to be when it is done?" Duncan asked.

"The normal sort of wedding cake. Regular three tier with the figurines on top. White butter cream icing."

Duncan thought about it for a moment. "Look. Do the best you can. If you have to make it with regular cake flour then make it with regular cake flour, but just make it. The wrong kind of cake is better than no cake."

Gregory didn't look pleased. "If I make this cake and it isn't what they ordered, they'd better not stiff me on the remainder of the bill."

"Reynolds won't let it happen. You'll be paid in full. It's a good faith effort. Reynolds wants to be able to bring more clients your way in the future." Duncan hoped that the thought of not following through on a cake for one account and any subsequent bad publicity or word of mouth bad news would be enough to convince the baker to make the cake.

Gregory narrowed his eyes, looking doubtful and suspicious. "Okay, fine," he agreed in a tight voice. "But if I'm not paid, Mr. Reynolds and I will have a little chat."

Having narrowly avoided disaster, Duncan was glad to leave the baker behind. With the cake finally being measured and mixed, he drove back to Richie's office.

Richie was already there, but he was covered in…well, Duncan didn't know what it was but it was greenery. At least Richie had a nice fragrant scent now. Sort of pine-scented.

"Any luck?" Duncan asked.

"A little." Richie rubbed at his face. "It wasn't baby's breath, though. I guess those are the little white flowers and they're no trouble. No. These were the gardenias. The most sensitive flower in the world. And all their edges have turned brown from rough handling. I hate flowers."

"So, did you get it fixed?"

"We're getting flowers from another florist, but it is going to cost." Richie made an unhappy face. "At the rate this is going, I'll be working for free soon."

"How did you structure your contract when these couples signed up with you?" Duncan asked. What foolish thing had Richie done now?

"You don't want to know." Richie flopped into his chair with a groan. "It was just that I needed some clients so that I could have references so that others would know I could do a good job. Let's just say they got a good deal."

"Rich, Rich, Rich." Duncan hung his head sadly.

"Thanks for your help, Mac. I can handle it from here."

"Handle it?"

Richie flipped open the yellow pages directory. "I need to find another limo service. The one that I'd had lined up just had an accident with the stretch limo we'd reserved."

"Good grief," Duncan said, and quietly left Richie to his troubles. Maybe he was right and this particular wedding was jinxed. All Duncan knew was that he was happy to be able to walk away. He hated to see Richie try business idea after business idea, but the kid was still so young and he needed his failures as much as his successes. The more he learned now, the better of he'd be in whatever business came next. It just was hard to watching the actual growing pains of the learning curve.

Four days later Duncan decided to risk going back over to Richie's to see how everything had gone. At the very least he could take him out to lunch if it had all gone swirling down to the lowest pits of hell.

The scent was nearly enough to knock him off his feet before he opened the office door.

"Richie?" Duncan stared in wonder at the small office. Bouquets of gardenias adorned every available surface. Boutonnières were lined up like soldiers next to the coffee pot, which was not smoldering this time, but full of good looking coffee. On the little table that had once held bridal magazines was three-quarters of a three-tier cake.

"Mac! Hey. Have some cake and coffee." Richie looked really happy to see him, and no longer in panic-mode.

"No, thanks. What happened?"

Richie grinned. "Absolute disaster. But it wasn't my fault!"

Duncan reconsidered. "Well, maybe I will have a small piece of cake. Just to taste it." As Duncan cut himself a slice of cake off the top tier and poured himself a cup of coffee, Richie explained.

"So, twenty minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start, the groom and his best man have lost the rings. Lost, lost, lost. And of course, where had they left them? In the other dressing room area, where the bride was. I guess she'd not been a part of choosing the rings, the groom had taken care of that and when she saw the rings he'd chosen she got into a snit. Totally pissed off. She thought he'd bought silver rings."

"Silver's nice," Duncan murmured around bites of cake. It tasted like regular cake and Duncan wondered if it had red wheat or not.

"But it wasn't silver. And it wasn't white gold. It was platinum, which is super duper expensive. Except it looks like silver. So she thought he'd gone cheap on her and she started breaking stuff in a total fit. Then because she was throwing things around, she actually broke one of those prongs on her diamond engagement ring. Which made her think the husband-to-be had bought a fake diamond or something on the engagement ring because only cheap stuff would break, right? And of course, that meant she lost the diamond, so everyone spent hours looking for that. Before anyone could figure out what had happened with the rings, she declared that she would sooner marry a warthog, so then the groom said he'd had enough of her and her high maintenance ways and suggested that she was a warthog. It just went downhill from there."

Duncan helped himself to a second sliver of cake. "Wow."

"Yeah. But I broke even on the whole thing, and no one wanted the cake or the flowers, so I've got them. I figured I ended up paying for them, I might as well enjoy them." Richie walked over and cut himself a large wedge of cake. "You know, Mac. I don't think I'm cut out for this wedding business."

"No?"

"No. I'm thinking I could be a counselor. Or a divorce lawyer. And besides, I think there's more money on the other end."

"Probably," Duncan said, "but there's certainly less cake."


End file.
